


Blood and Iron

by Zillabird



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Background Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magic, Multi, Romance, Rough Sex, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:08:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zillabird/pseuds/Zillabird
Summary: The War has been going on since Dick wasn't much bigger than his adoptive father's knee.Dick had done a lot of things he's not proud of in search of an end to the bloodshed. Things that give the turncoat orc, Slade, every reason to dislike him. Not that Slade's hands are clean, not even close. That's why he's here at Lord Wayne's camp under the watchful eye of the man's eldest. Waiting patiently for the chance to get his revenge. Secrets are so embroiled in this world they are forged into the very steel that the armies fight with, and they may be the reason that Slade loses the chance to start a new life. One with the half-elf healer that he's fallen for in Lord Wayne's camp.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally inspired by a piece of art by Pentapoda. Unfortunately, when the due date came around I was not in a great place mentally, stressed to the max, and I had to regretfully inform my artist that I would be unable to complete the work. Special shoutout to Pentapoda for being an absolutely amazing person to work with and putting up with me so drastically dropping the ball. Your art is and always will be an inspiration to anyone who sees it.
> 
> That being said, hope everyone enjoys.

Half of the world was dark. Slade was running through the trees, leaves and branches breaking against the armor covering his arms and shoulders as he blindly barreled forward. There was no mind paid to the trail behind him of trampled ground and destroyed flora, not that Slade expected anyone to follow him. Not after Adeline had lifted her bow and fired a single arrow into his eye. They’d left him for dead.

A low hanging branch struck the broken arrow shaft and Slade bellowed. Birds squawked around him, taking flight at the roar of a predator. The pain was excruciating; the tip of the arrow driving further into the soft tissue of his eye. He wiped the blood off his cheek that had poured out from his eye socket and then braced his hand against the tree. When he pulled it away, he could smell is own blood on the air now mixing in with the natural scent of the area. He stepped forward again and then picked up pace to a break out run once more.

The scent of the humans didn’t carry well now that they’d adapted to staying downwind, but they were still a mass of flesh and blood and when close enough there was no way to ignore their stench.

“Warriors to the ready! We’re under attack!”

Slade snapped his head over. Growing used to being unable to see out of the right side of his face was going to take some time, and until then he now had to face the force of the humans’ might. He swung his arm and hit the shouting lookout with the flat of his shield. The human crumpled to the grass.

Some might.

He broke the tree line and took in the rows of warriors, shields and swords drawn, and archers up on the ledge of the fort. Still, he did not draw his weapon. “Do not attack, humans!”

“Attack!”

Slade brought up his shield and deflected the weighty sword carried in the hands of a larger man. When the sword came down again, making the shield shudder from the force, Slade shoved back. The man stumbled little, clearly well taught with the blade he wielded, and shoved aside the first man who stepped forward to aid him. He drew his own blade, much larger than the human’s. “I did not come to fight.”

“You came to kill,” the man growled, blue-green eyes flashing with anger. “But not before I remove your head from your shoulders.”

Their swords clanged together but only the human’s quick feet kept Slade from forcing the sword from his hands. He side-stepped and spun, dragging the sword through the air with an impressive speed and strength for a human, and then brought it against Slade’s back. It was stopped, mostly, by the thick armor covering him from neck to tailbone. He’d be let off with some bruising but nothing more.

Slade took a big step forward and used his own sword to swipe under the human’s guard. It cut the man just under his right pectoral and down across his belly. Red bubbled up from the thin, shallow cut. Not enough to put him down but maybe enough to slow him.

“I’ll kill you for that, orc,” the man growled, putting one hand over the wound and pulling it away red with blood.

“I did not come here to fight,” Slade growled.

The human didn’t seem to care about that. He lifted his sword up and attacked with a new vigor. The swings became faster and Slade brought his shield up, backed up by the onslaught of swings against the heavy wooden shield. He pushed back, arm tired but still holding ever more strength than the humans’. The human rolled, quite the feat with a two-handed weapon such as the one he wielded, and stabbed the point into the meat of Slade’s thigh where armor was less.

“Do you fight now?” he demanded. The blade came up again and Slade roared before slamming the shield into his face. Something cracked and Slade stepped back from the man’s prone form on the ground. The human wiped the blood from his dripping nose. “You’re weak for your kind, orc. You bring shame on your family.”

Such talk was dishonorable at _best_. But Slade expected little else from this bloodthirsty human.

“I did not come to fight,” Slade growled.

“Then what did you come for?” That didn’t come from the human on the ground. Slade looked up, having to turn his head to get a good look at the human with his working eye. “Our experience with orcs has been for your kind to come to slaughter.”

The human speaking was one that Slade was familiar with. He may not have seen the man with his own eyes but he could recognize the black metal and the golden bat emblazoned on his armor with the imparted blessing of the Night herself.

“Wayne,” Slade said. “Call off your soldiers. I have come to speak peace.”

“Peace,” the human he’d fought from before dragged himself to his feet and in front of Slade. He placed himself between the orc and Wayne and slowly picked up the heavy sword. He spit on the ground at Slade’s feet. “Your kind doesn’t know the meaning of it.”

“Jason,” Wayne warned. “Give him a chance to speak.”

To the warrior’s side a smaller man joined him, also placing himself between Slade and his leader. This one was younger by several years and armed with only a single staff. The runes etched carefully, impeccably into the metal of the staff, however, gave Slade the impression that the boy was dabbling in some magic to assist him.

“Do you speak on the behalf of your people?” Wayne asked.

Slade scoffed. “No. Orcs will never see an end to war peacefully.” Wayne didn’t speak to that. “I am here to join your people, Wayne. I want to bring the war to an end.”

The warrior from before, Jason, sneered. “Orcs don’t want peace. They never have.”

“I do,” Slade said. “And I will aid you and your people to find it.”

Wayne’s lips thinned, clearly sensing deception despite logic telling him that it was not in the orc way of belief to deceive for a victory. _That_ would be rather human of orcs, actually. “You can see why we doubt that.”

“I can only see fear stopping you from taking advantage of the best chance you have at winning the coming battles,” Slade growled.

Wayne stepped up behind the boys and gently guided them both out of his way. Wayne was by no means a small man, but faced with Slade the orc dwarfed him. He met cold blue eyes but remained quiet while Wayne made his decision. His hands tightened around the blade, preparing for a fight.

“Our healers will take care of your injuries,” Wayne said. “You will submit your weapons. We will discuss this and make a decision.”

“You want me to face execution without my sword?” Slade asked.

“I want you to face trial without your sword,” Wayne corrected. “And if you are deemed to be dishonest, then you will face exile _with_ your sword.”

Slade huffed, but had to admit Wayne’s honor in that way. “Will your healers treat without prejudice?”

Even with only one eye, Slade could see the looks of fear from the people. Warriors who should have stared death in the face with the same strength as the bloody warrior behind Wayne nearly shook under his gaze.

Wayne looked around and then sighed. “I will take you to one I trust.”

Slade nodded. Wayne may have been the nightmare that stories made him to be, a brutal force with the blessing of justice but those same stories also told of a man who held to his word.

“Bruce?” the younger man asked, barely into manhood at all. His voice still held the threat of cracking.

“Follow me…” Wayne trailed off, waiting for a name.

“Slade,” he replied.

“Follow me, Slade,” Wayne said. He looked around at the people watching and waiting. “Get back to your posts. Honor me with your patience.”

The warriors moved with obvious reluctance but wandered away.

“Bruce, where are you taking him?” Jason demanded.

“Dick,” Wayne said. “He’s the only one of you with any healing experience.”

“I don’t think that counts,” Tim muttered.

Slade didn’t speak but he stared at Wayne with the expectation of explanation. Wayne didn’t cater to that, staying silent as he led him first into the gates of the fort and then deeper through the tents acting as temporary buildings, past the humans who stared with wide, horror filled eyes.

One tent was larger than the others and Wayne looked to Jason. “Retrieve him.”

“Don’t trust me with your ill?” In search of a healer, it did not take a scholar to know this must be the tent for the wounded.

“I don’t trust you at all,” Wayne said. “But I will humor this until I find proof that I shouldn’t.”

Wise man.

When the dark haired boy came out it was with another in tow. “An elf?”

“An orc,” the elf replied, blue eyes narrowing on Slade. “Let’s be honest, which is more surprising to find in a human camp here on the front lines of the war?”

“This is your healer?” Slade asked.

The elf crossed his arms over his chest, revealing the twin blades strapped to each thigh. “Is there a problem?”

“When you implied that you would be healed by your methods, I assumed it would be through someone you trust. I know your stories, Wayne, and you have stood by tolerance but isolation of your people. The mingling of races is something you’ve frowned upon,” Slade said. He narrowed his eyes. “You trust me with a creature you would not trust yourself.”

“I trust Dick with my life, Slade,” Wayne said. “He is a member of my family and his half elf status makes him no less to me. Mingling of the races has created more war and strife than I think benefits have come from it. Nonetheless, I will not be a fool who thinks myself superior because of it or banish anyone from my lands who is not human.”

“This is your family?” Slade asked. What did it say about Wayne as a father that he did not trust Slade with his ill, but chose his own son to heal Slade in a true healer’s place?

The flap of the tent pushed aside and revealed a young boy. Ten, twelve. A _child_ on the front lines of a war. Slade’s lip curled in disgust, but not only with Wayne. And the child was most definitely Wayne’s. They were a splitting image of each other. “Father, where are you absconding off to with Grayson?” His eyes landed on the orc and narrowed. “What is _that_ doing here?”

Slade’s shoulders pulled back, straightening to an impressive height that towered over the tiny child. “ _That_ has ears.”

“But only one eye,” the child said cruelly.

“Which brings me to what I assume I have been summoned for,” the elf, Dick, interrupted. He patted the boy on the head. “Return to Alfred, Damian. When I’m done with our guest I will come back to help with your friend if I can.”

Damian got as far as opening his mouth before Wayne cut him off with a look. The child scowled. “I do not trust him with Grayson, Father.”

“I can take care of myself,” Dick assured the boy. “Go.” He waited until the boy had returned inside of the tent and then looked to the others before shooing his hands at them. “The rest of you can return to your posts as well. I can handle it.”

“Dick, this is Slade. He claims to want an end to this war. When he’s healed, set him up with several soldiers for his protection,” Wayne ordered, sharing a look with the elf that made Slade doubt they were there for his protection as much as to protect the people in the fort from him. “Then come find me.”

Dick gave a short bow and then watched Wayne walk away, light absorbed by the blessed black metal. “Slade, then. Let’s take a moment in my tent for you.”

He didn’t wait to make sure Slade was following and Slade might have scorned him in his head for trusting an orc at his back, only to chastise himself for his quick judgement. Elves were quick and Slade was far slower. With a modicum of training, attacking an elf to the back would be a poor decision of combat. Perhaps the elf was wise enough to realize that.

Dick held the flap of the tent open for Slade who had to duck his head and remain bent over in the small tent. “Apologies, but even our tallest here are still several heads shorter than you.”

“It’s nothing less than I expected,” Slade said.

“Let me get out some supplies,” Dick said. He turned to a large bag on the ground propped up by one of the wooden poles holding up the tent. Slade didn’t speak, using the opportunity to examine his healer. He was a fair looking man, though most elvenkind were, with the sharpened features of elf blood softened undoubtedly by his human parent. Dark hair curled all the way down over his neck, longer than Slade would expect from even an elven soldier if not tied back. The points of his ears poked out from the mass of black hair. Darker complexion but bright blue eyes, not commonly paired and certainly not on an elf.

“Wood elf?” Slade asked, breaking up the silence.

Dick pulled the final supplies out of the bag before closing it again. He carried them over. “That’s what most guess.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer.

 “Is it the wrong guess?” Slade asked.

Dick’s lips twitched. “It is.”

“You’re not a dark elf,” Slade said. “Half would still be too much for you not to inherit their skin tone and red eyes.”

“I am not a dark elf,” Dick said. The glass vials of some concoction clinked together as he set them down.

“Yet you are far too dark to be from the mountains,” Slade said.

“I am not a Yonix, Zylum, or Skotabris,” Dick said, placing heavy emphasis on the proper term for each elf race and not the common descriptors used. “Why does my race matter so much to you, orc? It will not affect my ability to heal you either way.”

“Because you are a puzzle,” Slade said. “I had not expected to find a half-blood of any sort here.”

“I didn’t expect to be called upon to heal an orc from the opposing side but I am not interrogating you on _your_ parentage,” Dick replied.

Slade fell silent. He may not have liked not knowing the answers to his questions, but he knew that the fly went to the patient spider. He had bigger goals in mind than answers about a single half-blood. “Your… brother, I suppose, seemed to think your healing experience should not count as such.”

“Which brother?” Dick asked.

“The younger of the warriors,” Slade said.

Dick hummed. “If you knew Damian, you wouldn’t be able to describe Tim that way. The one carrying the staff?” Slade nodded. “He did not look fondly upon the way I learned it, so I suppose that makes some sense.”

“And how did you learn then?” Slade asked.

“Keeping alive the orcs I interrogated for information about the war,” Dick replied, without a moment’s hesitation. “Lie back on the bed. I need to get a better look at your eye.”

Slade stood with enough force to make the elf stumble back. He’d given up his weapons but that in no way meant that he could not at least stand and fight against an attacker. “I will not be ambushed by the deceptive strategies of your kind.”

“And which kind would that be?” Dick asked with a hint of dryness to his tone. But despite his light tone and attempt at humor, his hands curled around the twin blades on each leg. He was a threat and Slade needed to remember that. A pretty threat with easy words but a threat nonetheless.

“I came seeking peace and Wayne sent me to an interrogation,” Slade roared. “I will not stand for this dishonor.”

Dick stepped back, putting precious space between them. “Bruce didn’t send you to an interrogation. I don’t interrogate anyone any longer, but that is where I learned how to take care of wounds. He sent you to me because he was avoiding the prejudice and fear of his people to give you a place to heal comfortably. I have not interrogated you, Slade, and I will not as long as I am caring for your wounds.”

Slade curled his fist at his side. “I will answer no questions to you, elf.”

“Half elf,” Dick corrected. “Now sit back down and let me see what I can do for your eye.”

“Answer me,” Slade ordered. “Tell me your parentage.”

Dick scoffed. “This again?”

Slade wanted to know something about this creature he was expected to leave himself vulnerable to. Not the hands of a healer, sworn to do no harm, but the hands of a warrior. The hands of a _torturer_.

“You have no blood on your hands, orc?” Dick asked calmly.

Grant’s face as he wasted away in Slade’s arms haunted him. He bared his teeth. “Your parentage, elf.”

“Solios,” Dick said.

“The High Elves don’t consort with humans,” Slade said, though the sun bronzed color of his skin did make some sense in light of that explanation.

“That’s what they’d like people to think,” Dick said. “Now you know. Half human, half Solios. Sit _down_.”

Slade stared him down and then slowly lowered himself back to the bed.

Dick waited a moment more and then straightened, hands uncurling from around the hilt of each blade. “Are we done now? May I take a look at your eye?”

Slade laid back. He could smell the elf on the pillow. The hard scent of sweat and blood, but also some sort of fresh scent mixed with hints of smoke. Undoubtedly some sort of incense.

“You’ll never be able to use it again,” Dick said bluntly.

“I had as much as assumed,” Slade replied.

Dick examined the shaft of the arrow and then met Slade’s single working eye. “I will give you the choice. Trust me and allow me to put you to sleep with a potion, I can pull the arrow out then and you will have no memory of the pain. Or I can pull the arrow out now but the pain will be excruciating. You may pass out, but I suppose you can be rest assured that I cannot interrogate you while unconscious.”

Slade clenched his jaw. “I don’t trust you anymore than you trust me, boy.”

“The arrow comes out now then,” Dick said. “On the count of three. One-“

He yanked back on the shaft and Slade roared with the pain as the arrow was ripped from the eye socket and pulled free. It were as if fire had filled his blood, twice as painful as taking the arrow to the eye had been. True to the half elf’s warning, the light dimmed and Slade found himself blessedly asleep for the rest of it.

~~~

Slade woke to the scent of smoke and, beneath that, the same airy scent of incense from before. Stronger now. He opened his eye and looked to where the bluish hued smoke rose up to the top of the tent and dissipated. The opening of the tent fluttered and the half elf walked in. He’d changed, the bloody clothes were in the corner of the tent along with what appeared to be several blood soaked towels. He stopped when he realized that Slade was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was shot in the head with an arrow,” Slade replied.

Nearly a smile at that. Dick walked closer and made a show of holding up his hands, proving his lack of weapons or subterfuge. Skilled, thin fingers peeled away the bandage tied around his head before he pressed it back down. “It will heal, eventually. We’ll need to watch it for illness.”

“But I’ll never use it again,” Slade said.

Positioned as he was, Slade couldn’t see the elf’s eyes but he could see the way his lips turned down in sympathetic sorrow. “There wasn’t much left of the eye. I basically pulled what remained out to give the area its best chance at healing. The arrow did quite a bit of damage. Speaking of which…” He trailed off and retrieved the arrow from where it lay on a piece of muslin to the side. It was still coated in blood but its origin was clear. “An orc arrow.”

Slade didn’t reply.

“I answered your question about my parentage,” Dick said. “I’m just curious as to how you ended up being shot in the face by one of your own.”

“It’s none of your business,” Slade said.

“But the knowledge that my father was a Solios Elf was yours?” Dick asked.

Slade stood and used one thick arm to push the elf to the side. He moved towards the exit.

“What makes you think that we would take in a traitor?” Slade stiffened at the words aimed like barbs to his back. He turned and the elf kept talking. “You’ve turned on your own side, abandoned your allegiance to your chief, and brought dishonor to your fami-“

“I brought no one dishonor but myself,” Slade growled, low and angry. Adeline had made sure of that, brought honor and dignity back to their name with a single arrow.

The elf’s eyes watched him carefully, taking in too much for Slade’s tastes.

“I do not wish to be interrogated,” Slade growled.

Dick’s eyes snapped back to his. “I haven’t forced you to answer.”

Sly elf. Slade huffed and left the tent. Unsurprisingly, the elf’s presence was instant at his back. “Are you ready to be introduced to your guards?”

“Is that a question?” Slade asked.

“It was lilted up at the end,” Dick replied. “So I would imagine so.”

“Then no,” Slade said.

“That’s unfortunate,” Dick said, coming around to his front and then motioning over two warriors. “They’ll be keeping an eye on you while I go meet with Bruce.”

Slade looked down at the two humans assigned to him and scoffed. “I could snap them in half.”

“That wouldn’t do much to prove your desire to end the war,” Dick pointed out. “But you’d be surprised what our warriors are capable of, Slade. Let them keep an eye on you. Prove that you mean everything that you claim.”

Slade looked away from the elf.

“You can do that, can’t you?” Dick asked.

Silence. The warriors made no movements but he could see the way they grew uncomfortable with his lack of response. The half elf was right, as much as Slade hated to admit it. “Go.”

He turned from the warriors, pathetic though they may have been in standing against his might, and faced the elf. Those same bright blue eyes watched Slade with the same care as before, reading too much. After a beat their eyes met and the elf’s lips twitched, seemingly amused at having been caught. He bowed and then took a step back. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Slade. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Slade said dryly.

The elf straightened and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo, not dead. Exciting, isn't it.

Bruce was not alone when Dick found him at the war map. The west side lookout was sat down in a wooden chair with a wet rag held to his face, soaked with blood. One of their _actual_ healers was beside him. Jason didn’t look much better but appeared to pushing aside the healer attempting to get a look at his busted nose. When she grabbed his shoulder, Jason pushed her aside. “Look, lady, I’m fine. I’ll pop it back into place myself. It’s a goddamn broken nose. Go heal someone who actually needs your skills.”

Her brow pinched together, jaw clenching in determination. Bruce was far too absorbed in his strategizing so Dick waved her over. “I’ll take care of Jason if he decides he needs help later. Thank you.”

She blew out a breath and muttered a few choice words about Jason’s parentage on her way out.

Tim glanced up. “Are you done already?”

Dick arched an eyebrow at his little brother, joining them around the table. “It’s been several hours.”

Tim frowned but didn’t argue that. Dick could hardly blame him. Bruce’s tendency to focus so intently on whatever challenge lay before him was like an illness, capable of being carried from person to person. Tim had taken to the sickness all too well.

“Did you learn anything?” Bruce asked, never once looking up from the map.

“I learned that my desire to not interrogate prisoners any more was being skated around,” Dick said. “I don’t like being manipulated, Bruce.”

The room fell silent, only the lookout’s haggard breathing breaking up the silence. Jason glanced between the two and Bruce _finally_ brought his head up to look at Dick. He spoke to the healer, however. “Get him to a healing tent and stitch him up.”

“Yes, sir,” the healer said, guiding the lookout to his feet and aiding him out of the tent.

It wasn’t until only the Wayne family remained that Bruce spoke again. “You know how I feel about having these sorts of conversations in front of people.”

“And I know that having them over and over in privacy hasn’t changed anything,” Dick said. “I told you I wanted no part of interrogations anymore.”

“A decision I supported,” Bruce said. His voice was even but there was an underlying tension that spoke of tightly reigned in emotion. “I didn’t ask you to interrogate him.”

“You didn’t have to,” Dick said.

Bruce straightened, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask, Dick. I never asked you to torture for me. Not then, not now.”

Dick’s jaw clenched. “That’s why you’re so good at this role, isn’t it? You can convince anyone to soil their hands for you. Much easier to stomach doing the things you do when you’ve brought everyone down to your level.”

And Dick wasn’t _wrong_. It didn’t have to be said, but Jason and Tim’s eyes both lowered. Shame may have been Dick’s bed fellow, but his was not the only bed she was sharing. Dick wasn’t the only one who had gone much, much farther than he’d ever thought to help the man who had raised him.

Bruce never broke eye contact and he continued to speak so calmly that Dick wanted to strangle him for that alone. “Did you learn anything, Dick?”

Tim glanced up out of the corner of his eye, watching and waiting. Dick blew out a breath and lowered his arms. “Not much. He doesn’t like to talk. He was shot by his own kind but I didn’t really need to talk to him to know that. He came to us. No orc would join our side unless they really had no other place to go.”

“You believe his lies about wanting peace?” Jason demanded.

Dick shrugged. “I think peace isn’t a desire that can be confined to a race, or excluded from one for that matter.” He took a seat in one of the chairs, pressing the sole of his boot against the side of the war table despite Bruce’s disapproving look. “He’s a family man, or was. I couldn’t tell you what happened but he got incredibly defensive when I mentioned him having brought dishonor to them.”

“Anything else?” Bruce asked.

“I had him for maybe an hour of waking time,” Dick said. “There’s only so much you can glean as you’re pulling someone’s eyeball out of their socket.”

Jason winced. “Thanks for that image, golden boy.”

Dick flashed him a smirk before turning back to Bruce. The smile faded. “He asked several questions about my parentage. I couldn’t begin to tell you if that had some hidden meaning or just prejudice and bigotry.”

“What did you tell him?” Bruce asked.

Dick shrugged. “The truth. That my father was a Solios and my mother was human.”

Bruce tapped the west side of the map, next to the small black flag symbolizing the fort they stood in. “He came from this direction.”

He didn’t need to explain for Dick to understand. There weren’t a whole lot of known war camps in that area, symbolized by the bright red flags of enemy bases. Wherever Slade had come from, perhaps it was from a base they hadn’t learned of yet.

“We need more information,” Tim said.

Jason pushed away from the table. “No. What we _need_ to do is kill that damn orc now while he’s surrounded and weak from his injuries.”

“Jason,” Bruce warned.

“Damn it, B, now isn’t the time for us to be slow to respond. We have far too many lives under our protection right now to take the risk on an orc that even Dickie can’t get a solid read on,” Jason said.

Dick pulled his shoulders back. “I didn’t exactly have all the time in the world with him, Jason. Given time-“

Jason put his hand up to keep Dick from saying anything more. “I’m not casting doubt on your abilities to rip the truth from your victims, golden boy, but that’s not what you just did.”

“He has come in peace, Jason. He did not raise his sword until you pulled yours and attacked him,” Bruce said. “I cannot callously _murder_ someone for what they may do, or what they have done in the past.”

The look that Bruce sent him after had Jason clenching his jaw and looking down. The young man’s hands curled around the edge of the table again. “It’s different. He’s an orc. They’ve slaughtered thousands and thousands of our people.”

“It’s dangerous having him here,” Tim said quietly.

“Tim,” Dick said.

“Jason isn’t wrong about that much,” Tim said defensively. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know we stuck a couple of guards on him but he went toe to toe with Jason and Jason is… no easy opponent. He’d slaughter our warriors if he wanted to.”

“But he isn’t,” Dick said, dropping his feet back onto the floor and standing. “He’s following our rules. He gave up his weapons, he turned himself over to their care.”

 “You think we should let him stay?” Jason demanded.

Dick blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Jason. I don’t know that forcing him out and letting him find someone else to ally with is a better option.”

_That_ brought them back to silence.

“We need more information,” Bruce said. He looked back up to Dick, blue eyes nearly burning holes into Dick with their intensity.

“I’m not going to torture him for answers,” Dick said, pain lancing up his jaw from the tension in his grating teeth.

“I’m not asking you to,” Bruce said. Dick got as far as sucking in a breath and hardening his gaze, not eager to have this conversation with Bruce _again_ , before Bruce stopped him. “I don’t want you to torture him. I want you to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” Dick said.

“He doesn’t trust any of us,” Bruce countered.

“He found out what I used to do for you,” Dick said.

Bruce frowned. “How?”

“I told him,” Dick said.

“Why?” Bruce asked.

Dick ran a hand through his hair. “Because I was trying to make him trust me.”

“By telling him that you’d made a living carving up his kind?” Jason asked. He snorted. “And I used to aspire to be as intelligent as you are. I set the bar rather low for myself, didn’t I?”

Dick sent a cool glare to Jason before returning his gaze to Bruce. “It took me all of a few moments to realize that Slade wouldn’t be fooled by your story of me being a healer, and he’s seen war. There’s a chance he would recognize the difference between my training and the training of a real healer. I made the decision to tell him rather than risk him piecing it together himself.”

“It was a good decision,” Tim assured him, not that Dick needed the reassurance. He knew he’d made the best decision in the moment.

“I might be the only one with training in healing, but I’m also the best interrogator you had, Bruce,” Dick said, putting emphasis on had so the man wouldn’t get any ideas. “I made the right decision. I’d make it again. Even if he doesn’t trust me not to deceive him, he trusts me to tell him the truth. There’s a difference, and it’s a difference that matters.”

Bruce didn’t waste much time before relenting with a nod of his head. “I trust your judgement, Dick. I still think that you’re the best person to get more information out of him. Not through torture but the same way you did before. Talk to him, check on his injuries.”

“Tell him a few other bedtime stories about your past?” Jason suggested sarcastically.

Bruce didn’t dignify that with a response. He dipped the quill into the inkwell and drew lines out from the black flag symbolizing their fortress and stretching to the edge of the map. A triangular shape that, in reality, probably covered dozens of acres if not more. “Timothy, take a team and search the area here. See if you can find any sign of a war camp.”

“Shouldn’t I take a team?” Dick asked.

“You’re dealing with our guest,” Bruce said. “Timothy is more than capable.”

Tim was a child. Sixteen was older than Dick had been when he’d first started learning combat for war but it still set off every nerve to have Tim in danger like that. The boy grinned, clearly pleased at being put in charge of his own mission even one that was boiled down to reconnaissance.

“I suppose that means I’m still on patrolling?” Jason asked. His tone dripped with sarcasm, irritation at being kept close and under Bruce’s watchful eye growing every day. He pushed away from the table. “I’m on it.”

“Jason-“ Bruce started. The man stopped, albeit reluctantly. “Be careful.”

Tim followed after Jason, both disappearing behind the flap of the tent.

Bruce stood up straight. “You’re still angry.”

“You don’t think I have the right to be?” Dick asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Bruce said.

“You implied it,” Dick replied. He stepped away from the table as well. “I don’t want to be that person any more, Bruce. I don’t want to be a name that strikes _fear_ in people.” He fell silent again. “I wanted to help.”

“You did,” Bruce said.

“Not the way I wanted to.” He looked down at his hands, the palms lined with callouses and scars. He curled them into fists and dropped them to his sides again. “I’m going to get some rest.”

“Our guest-“

“Slade, Bruce. His name is Slade,” Dick said. “And he’ll be in safe hands until I get some sleep. I was up all night with Damian’s friend in the healing tent before you sent him to me. I need to rest.”

Bruce’s lips thinned but he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Dick waved him off. “You get into the mindset. It’s nothing new.”

It might have been Dick’s imagination, but he thought Bruce looked taken aback by that. Guilty. Dick doubted it though. Bruce had never seemed regretful of his single mindedness towards victory and it wouldn’t suit him now.

~~~

Dick woke to screaming. He was out of bed in an instant, hands drawing the weapons he hadn’t bothered to even take off for this very reason. War was bloody and immediate and unpredictable. It could be quiet for months and Dick would grow used to the peace of sleeping a full night, only to end with the rise of the sun and a friend breathing her last in his arms.

He threw aside the tent flap.

“Calm down, woman,” Slade snapped.

The shoe in her hand was launched and bounced off the orc’s chest before falling into the grass at his feet. She did not, in fact, calm down.

Slade’s guards seemed torn between protecting the woman from Slade, despite him not attacking, and protecting Slade from the woman.

“Myra,” Dick said softly, approaching the older woman slowly. “What happened?”

She turned on him, a wrinkled finger pointing towards Slade and his towering mass. “An invader.”

“Bruce gave him permission to be here, Myra,” Dick said. “He is not an attacker. Slade has come here to help.”

Her face twisted into an expression of scorn, hatred. It made the scar on her face look all that much more horrible. “No orc will help. They are war glorifying monsters.”

“Listen here, witch woman-“ Slade said, taking a step forward and growling until his guards drew weapons and placed them between him and Myra.

“There’s no need for that,” Dick said. He looked at the woman. “I understand why you’re upset but this is Bruce’s decision. We have to respect that.”

“He’ll turn on us,” Myra warned. “They’re a vicious people.”

“He’s one man,” Dick reminded her. “And he’ll be closely watched.”

Myra inflicted Slade with a dark glare and silence, only to turn and walk away.

Dick watched her go and only then sheathed his weapons again.

“Is that how you let your people treat your allies, elf?” Slade accused.

Dick turned a cool glare to the orc. “She’s sixty four years old and she lobbed a shoe at you. I’m quite sure you’ll survive.”

“She attacked me,” Slade said.

“She woke up to see an enemy in what was supposed to be a safe fortress for us,” Dick said. “News of your arrival and stay has apparently not reached everyone.”

“I wonder why,” Slade said. “She seemed like such a pleasant woman.”

Dick crossed his arms over his chest. He looked up at the orc. “It’s going to take some time for them to get used to you.”

“Like it took them to get used to you?” Slade asked.

The words brought back memories of dirty fingered children grabbing his ears and pulling, hiding behind Bruce’s leg and watching the sharp tongued townsfolk of Bruce’s lands as they mocked his parentage. “Exactly like that.”

Slade stared and then huffed. “I could care less whether or not your people accept me.”

Dick almost believed him. Almost. But Dick had also gotten very good at pretending that the whispered insults and cruel actions didn’t bother him. He knew that it was entirely possible to be surrounded by people and still manage to feel alone. No matter what had driven Slade away from his home, Dick didn’t truly think that some part of the man didn’t long to return to it. “It will take time, whether you’re waiting for that moment or not.”

Especially being who he was. Or, rather, _what_ he was. After nearly a decade of war, even just the sight of an orc would be enough to terrify most of the human villages anymore. Armored hides covering the dark orange colored skin of the towering people riding on horseback were the thundering clouds in the distance to the roar of the storm as homes burned and blood soaked into the ground. Children ran in fear from even the chained prisoners, shuffling behind the horses threatening to drag them all should one attempt escape, as they were marched beside towns.

Slade looked every bit the same monster as the ones who Dick had killed and nearly been killed by. From his muddied orange skin tone to the scars disrupting his features – the same eye Dick had bandaged himself still made Dick shudder. Not only from the extensive damage, but from the unknown action which had made one of his own aim to kill.

Fortune had saved Slade.

“Elf?” Slade snapped, and Dick realized it wasn’t the first time the orc had tried to get his attention while Dick had been busy in his own thoughts.

“What?” Dick asked.

Slade narrowed his eye. “I asked you whether there was anything else you needed. Now that the hag is gone-“

“She’s not a hag,” Dick defended.

“-I would presume that you could go back to your bloodletting,” Slade said.

The healing practice was mostly outdated anymore, so while Dick wouldn’t be surprised if the orcs more traditional forms of healing still included it he was rather certain that it was supposed to be a reference to his time as an interrogator. A time which was over. “I don’t do that any longer.”

“Once a warrior, always a warrior,” Slade said.

“I’m surprised you consider that to be the actions of a warrior,” Dick said.

Slade huffed. “It is an act of _war_ , even if a dishonorable one.”

Dick swallowed back his response to that, not even allowing himself the time to analyze them. It was better to avoid his feelings on that at all, lest he decide he didn’t like what he found. Orcs could have complicated battle strategy but even at its most layered and complex it was combat battle. They wasted no time with deception or rumor. It was looked on as a cowards way of avoiding the pain and blood of battle.

“You don’t sound as if you disagree,” Slade commented.

Dick arched an eyebrow. “I never said anything.”

“That’s my point,” Slade said.

Dick set his jaw, meeting Slade’s eyes with all of his pride raging behind blue irises. He still looked away first, which might have said more than anything that he could have actually voiced. He motioned at the two guards. “Go take a couple of hours. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Lord Wayne said-“

“I have permission,” Dick said. Actually, he had more than permission. He had orders hidden in poorly veiled guilt trips. “If you truly don’t believe me, Bruce is in the war tent.”

They wouldn’t bother him. Calm anger was a strange deterrent but it had struck terror in more than one well intentioned warrior. Bruce trained his inner circle to the highest standards and anything less was something Bruce had little patience to deal with. Most of the warriors learned to take their orders from Dick and the others and avoid Bruce at all costs.

“Yes, sir.” A unison of two voices before the men walked away, sure to find a meal to fill their bellies and a bed to rest in before they had to take up their duty as Slade’s guard once more.

“Hungry?” Dick asked.

Slade huffed. “I suppose.”

“It’s not a difficult question,” Dick said.

“Your guards rotate out, leaving to bring me back food. I ate this morning,” Slade said. “I haven’t gotten another meal since.” He paused. “I’ve gone much longer without food.”

“As have I,” Dick said. “But when food is ready and available, plenty for the time being, then there’s no reason not to enjoy it.”

“I’m not welcome around your people, elf,” Slade said.

“Then we won’t go around my people,” Dick said. “Bruce travels with a servant he grew up with, a halfling from across the seas.”

Slade’s lip curled in disgust. “The weakness of his people to be cared for like children.”

“Humans?” Dick asked, confused.

“Wealthy,” Slade muttered.

Dick’s lips twitched at that. “Orcs take slaves. What’s the difference between slavery and servitude?”

“Taking slaves is an act of war,” Slade said. “It is a show of strength. See what our might has brought us. Paying for it is… lesser.”

That was a rather interesting way of looking at it. “Did you keep slaves?”

“One,” Slade said.

Slade didn’t elaborate and he spoke with such a harsh voice that Dick didn’t dig any deeper into that. The tent back here was smaller and simple. Behind it, smoke rose and the scent of burning wood gave hint to the small fire they found on the other side. To the side of it, a halfling coming up to Dick’s shoulders and no higher. “Alfred.”

“Master Richard,” he greeted, straightening and brushing white hair from his face. The man was due for a haircut but refused to let any of them give him one since Dick’s epic failure at the attempt when he was just fourteen. “And you must be Slade.”

Slade looked down to the man’s face but didn’t speak.

“Strong and silent,” Alfred mused. “I’m familiar with the type.”

“The townsfolk haven’t taken well to Slade joining our ranks, Alfred,” Dick said. “We’d like a meal without having to intrude on their rest.”

Slade’s eye narrowed at the halfling as he moved away from the orc and began searching for bits and pieces of something to stretch the meal he’d started to make for himself before Dick and Slade had come to him.

“Of course, Master Richard,” Alfred said. “Would you two care to take a seat?”

Dick took a seat instantly and watched Slade cautiously do the same. Alfred stepped away, far enough for Slade to apparently feel comfortable enough to whisper about him. “How does Wayne feel about my being around his servant?”

Dick’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t ask for permission, actually. Should I have? Are you planning on hurting Alfred?”

Slade’s lips thinned and he turned back to watch the smallish man move about the campfire. Dick didn’t take his eyes off of him, waiting for a response. The silence stretched long enough for Dick to wonder if he’d misjudged, made a mistake. “No.”

“Good,” Dick said, dragging his eyes back to the flickering flames in the pit Alfred had carved out himself.

The smell of rabbit mingling in the pot with the various vegetables that Alfred had quickly added in to make the meal stretch further wafted over the area and Dick could see Slade’s nose flare as he inhaled the scent. “Alfred is quite a talented cook, even far from a traditional kitchen.”

“It’s dangerous out here,” Slade said, instead of answering him. “Your kind were certainly not built for war.”

The halfling turned, offense in his straight posture and tight shoulders. “I beg your pardon, sir. You are speaking to a fine officer of the great halfling army. No one is built for war, it is a decision for which to throw yourself to the lines and fight for your beliefs.”

Slade leaned back, taken aback by Alfred’s lecture on war. “You think that orc and halfling have equal chance at victory?”

“I’ve fought and won against a battle against orcs protecting my homestead and village,” Alfred said.

Dick could see a physical reaction to that. Not anger or even offense, but… calculation. The absorption of this information and the reassessment of the halfling before him. Because of their drive to war and the cultural beliefs of their people towards honor and honesty, orcs could have come off as dull or unintelligent. That was not a wise mistake to make. Orcs were just as capable of bright thought as any other sentient species. They prized their strength but brute strength was not the sole path to victory that orcs had taken.

Slade nodded and Alfred, seemingly pleased with this surrender, turned and dished out food into three separate bowls. Two were handed to each guest and then Alfred took a seat as well with his bowl of food.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick said.

Slade glanced up and nodded, as close to voicing his gratitude as he’d probably get.

“You’re welcome,” Alfred said, to both of them. He was rather used to Bruce by this point and Slade, well – Alfred had put it well, he was accustomed to the strong and silent types.

Bellies full, Dick walked a patrol around the interior of the fort and the high walled fence that protected the inhabitants of the camp inside. Slade’s voice grumbled from beside him. “I know why Wayne has designated you to me.”

“Do you?” Dick asked.

“You’re an interrogator,” Slade said. Answer enough, Dick supposed.

Dick inclined his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“You’re not even going to attempt to deny it?” Slade asked.

Dick blew out a breath and came to a stop. “Would there be any point?” To that, Slade said nothing. “You’re an unknown, Slade. My people don’t trust you, Bruce doesn’t trust you. _I_ do not trust you. So I will talk to you and you will talk back, because if you mean anything that you’ve said so far then you’ll be willing to let us _learn_ to trust you. On our own time.”

“I don’t trust you either,” Slade said.

“Then we both have a lot of work to do proving it to each other,” Dick said. “Until then…”

The single blue eye roamed over Dick’s face before meeting Dick’s gaze once more. Slade nodded and then moved forward, following the same path of patrol that Dick had been on. Dick jogged to catch up.


	3. Chapter 3

Either the elf was the single worst interrogator involved in the war, or the best. And not knowing made Slade twice as wary. He was friendly, more often than not, and more welcoming than a suspicious warrior on the battlefront had any right to be. More often than not, Slade had found himself struggling to keep from smiling at a joke that had no right to make him react that way.

William would have called the boy charming.

“How did you end up with Wayne?” Slade asked abruptly.

It cut Dick off in the midst of an amusing if long-winded tale about a fiery haired woman who Dick _swore_ had dragon blood in her veins - despite knowing well and true that dragons hadn’t been seen in thousands of years. It sounded more like Dick had fallen for a pretty woman with a silver tongue.

Dick let his story fade into the air right along with the smoke lifting away from the campfire. They’d waited until most everyone had wandered off and now there was only Dick and Slade on the west side of the campfire and the third of Wayne’s child soldiers, the boy with the rune carved staff, on the eastern side. Slade saw the boy lift his head at the question, eyes landing on Dick whose lips were still parted in search of words.

“It’s sort of a long story,” Dick replied.

So was every other story that Dick had managed to convince Slade to listen to, with less reluctance each time. “The night is still young.”

Dick’s lips twitched, but he nodded. He pulled one leg up onto the log and leaned forward towards the campfire. He rubbed one hand over the back of his head, pulling on his hair in a way that made it appear as if the points of his ears were twitching.

“My father was a Solios,” Dick said. “I told you that already. He fell in love with a human woman. She and her people were travelers. Nomads, I suppose. A tribe that followed the herds they hunted. And things happened between them, as things tend to do when love is involved, and my mother became pregnant with me. He wanted to take her into the city, but his people would have shunned both of them, and her own tribe was too traditional to take in a Solios elf. So they left together and joined a performing troupe. There aren’t a lot of places for a shunned Solios, an unmarried woman, and a half breed. I was raised as an acrobat.”

“That doesn’t explain how you ended up with Wayne,” Slade said, trying to imagine the little half elf as a performer. He had a captivating way about him, it was not hard to believe that he could have bewitched a crowd.

“We were performing in Gotham and my troupe was threatened by a man who believed that he deserved some of our profits,” Dick said. “A bandit in merchant wear. Our troupe leader said no and the man cut the lines my parents used to swing while they were on them. They were both killed.”

“Condolences,” Slade said.

Dick raised one shoulder in a tight shrug, clearly affected by the story even after the passage of time. “It was a long time ago. To make an already long story shorter for reasons that are Bruce’s to tell and not mine, he decided not to let me wander the streets and avoid the slavers sneaking in and out of the city. I was raised as his ward.”

Raised as his ward and a soldier no doubt, if the way Wayne treated the younger two were anything to go by. Perhaps Slade could not truly judge him for that, not unless he judged himself too.

“Are you going to return the favor?” Dick asked. Slade glanced at him out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. “I shared something. You share something. Tell me about your family.”

Right to the heart of it. “Who said I had a family?”

It was Dick’s turn to glance at him and it was followed with an arched eyebrow. “We’ve already determined that I’m good at what I do.”

“I don’t have a family anymore,” Slade countered.

“Were they killed in the war?” Dick asked.

Grant’s breath had been so quiet but so ragged towards the end. The blood on his lips, the light leaving his eyes…

“It’s none of your business,” Slade said, voice low and warning.

He should have known that wouldn’t be enough. The half breed had been very thorough in proving that he could not take a hint whether it was subtle as smoke or as dramatic as the flames of a forest fire. “What’s the harm in telling me?”

“The knowledge that all of the information I give you will travel straight from you to Wayne,” Slade said. “I am no fool.”

Dick fell quiet at that. He didn’t take his eyes off of Slade but when he spoke it was directed at the young man across the fire from them. “Tim, can you give us a moment?”

The boy’s reluctance to leave them alone was palpable. Wayne may have encouraged this but it was a decision that had not gone over well with the entire family, Slade could see. He hesitated and stood slowly but stepped away to give them space.

“He is not the only set of Wayne’s ears here,” Slade said. “And you cannot listen if you send yourself away.”

Dick put his hand up and the other over his heart. “Slade, an oath, that I will not tell Bruce anything you tell me tonight.”

Slade looked dubious. “Your kind is known for its deception.”

“Which kind would that be?” Dick asked and Slade could feel the déjà vu. They’d had this conversation before.

“Interrogators,” Slade said. It was hard to tell with the light of the flames flashing over the man’s face but he thought Dick flinched.

Dick was quiet. “An oath, Slade. I like to think we’ve spent enough time together recently for you to know that I take that seriously.”

The elf was a sort of honorable. Slade trusted no one that he had not fought side by side with on the battlegrounds, and even those he would not let lay to his back with ease. His honor lay to the Lord of the fort, the dark garbed blessed warrior with an ice blue gaze who gave orders that the half breed followed with no pleasure.

What action Wayne must have done to create such devotion in this man…

But there was also the man who, despite how much easier it may have been to lie, decided to tell the truth. He had not once hidden his true purpose of staying beside Slade so often or denied that his orders from Wayne were to retrieve information. He had been honest in his lies, in a way that Slade had never encountered before, and unbelievably, amazingly…

Slade found himself believing Dick.

He turned his eye away from the intense gaze of the half breed and looked instead to the fire. Remembered another, in the center of a war camp as he’d sought his son. “I did not lose them to the war, no. At least, not all of them.”

“But some? One?” Dick asked.

“My son,” Slade said.

“But not by our side,” Dick said. Slade’s eye narrowed as he snapped his attention back to the elf. Dick leaned back but didn’t break eye contact. “Death at our hands would have incited you to war with us, not turned you against your kind.”

Slade’s jaw clenched but he didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.

Dick cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what the pain of losing a child is like.”

A snap of twigs brought their attention behind them. In the shadows it was hard to make out the form hiding there. Dick sighed and stood. “Damian, come out.”

Slade’s lips thinned and he waited until the small child broke out of the darkness and stepped close enough for the faint light of the fire to separate him from the shadows. He was dressed for darkness.

“You should not have broken my stealth, Grayson,” Damian muttered. His eyes were all over Slade and then to Dick. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed the child was searching the elf for sign of injury. Then again, maybe Slade _didn’t_ know any better.

“You broke your own stealth when you stepped on a branch,” Dick said. He sighed. “Did you hear anything?”

“Everything,” Damian said, too quickly. Enough that Slade knew it was a lie. Apparently Damian realized it too. “No, Grayson. I heard nothing before you detected my presence.”

Dick relaxed. “Go back to your tent.”

Damian’s lip curled. “How long will you be out?”

“As long as I choose to be,” Dick said. He pointed a finger towards the tents. “Damian.”

That anger looked wrong on a child. He pulled his shoulders back, however, and marched off in the direction that Dick was pointing without losing an ounce of dignity.

It wasn’t until he’d faded out of sight that Dick dragged his hand down his face. “I’m sorry, they’re very protective.”

“They,” Slade said. It wasn’t a question.

“Damian, but also Tim and Jason,” Dick said. He barked out a laugh. “Maybe not Jason.”

“They care about family,” Slade said.

“Yeah,” Dick said. “Bruce is really big on that.”

Slade rolled his eye. “He doesn’t seem like the one prioritizing family.”

“What does that mean?” Dick asked.

“What father not only encourages his children to war but drags them to the battle to fight? He’s leading you into the fight like his own personal soldiers,” Slade said. “You take orders. You behave like soldiers around him.”

“He’s a warrior, a leader, first,” Dick said.

Slade knew that. He’d _been_ that. He blew out a breath. “Where are children left to be children?”

Dick didn’t seem to have a response to that and Slade waved it away before he could work on forming one. Dick almost let it go. “No, I want to know what you mean by that?”

“There is a ten year old in this fortress,” Slade said. “What purpose does he serve here?”

“Damian refused to be left behind,” Dick pointed out. “He swore to follow us, whether we wanted him to or not.”

“Does Wayne dictate his household or does his child?” Slade asked.

Dick shrugged. “It’s not that simple. You’re looking at this as if it was as easy as ordering Damian to stay. Do I like having him out here as another target for someone to attack? Of course not. But Damian _would_ have followed us. He would have tracked us to the best of his ability, but maybe he wouldn’t succeed. Maybe he’d run into something we couldn’t protect him from because we weren’t there… So Bruce lets him come along and we get the chance to keep an eye on him. That’s got to be better than just hoping he doesn’t walk into trouble.”

“Can you forgive yourself if he gets hurt under your watch, elf?” Slade asked.

Dick blew out a breath. “No.”

“I didn’t think so,” Slade said.

Dick frowned as Slade stood up. “I thought we were having a conversation.”

“The conversation is over,” Slade said.

The hand that wrapped around Slade’s arm, or as much of the muscular limb as the thin fingers could, wasn’t nearly as offending as it should have been. “Wait, Slade. Stop for a moment.”

Slade indulgently stilled instead of dragging the elf along behind him.

Sensing his opening, the half breed tightened his grip on Slade’s arm. “You want to stop the conversation, fine, but we were having a good time out here by the fire. You don’t have to run off.”

“I’ve spilled enough secrets tonight,” Slade said. “I think you can forgo your duties for an evening, elf.”

“I’m not talking about that. We don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want. I’m talking about the night and the fire and enjoying each other’s company,” Dick said. He flashed a smile. “I don’t deal with many people who aren’t family or terrified of me.”

“What about the other warriors?” Slade asked.

“They fall into the second category. It’s a risk when your father is the Lord of the town,” Dick said.

The last thing that Slade needed was this _time_ with Dick who was already far too skilled in extracting information whether it was by the use of a knife or nighttime conversation beside a fire. No wonder Wayne had used the half elf as an interrogator, there was no doubt in Slade’s mind that Dick could have extracted information from even their strongest chief.

“Another hour,” Dick said, finally letting his hand fall to the side.

It was a terrible idea to sit back down, so Slade wasn’t sure why he let the half elf convince him to.

In the morning, Slade was roused by the flat of a blade pressed up against his cheek. It was cold and sharp, one twitch of a muscle from opening a cut beneath Slade’s working eye. The same eye that he opened and turned a dark glare onto Jason with. The warrior from the first day with the younger warrior to his side.

“I believe you’re supposed to be with your guards,” Jason said, voice cold as ice.

Slade leaned forward, expecting the sting of the blade as it cut a wound across his skin. The boy pulled the blade away but not fast enough for it not to gather some of Slade’s blood. He felt it drip down his cheek and bared his teeth at the boy. “I believe you should be tucked away in a tent somewhere, boy. Somewhere _safe_.”

Beside him, the warm body of the half elf was an unexpected surprise.

“Jason,” the younger warrior said. Timothy, Slade was sure he’d heard the human be called. The next words were directed to Slade. “We came out to find the two of you out here and your guards nowhere to be found.”

“Your darling older brother sent them away,” Slade said, through gritted teeth.

Speaking of which, Dick shifted to Slade’s side and then blinked blue eyes open. They were fogged from the sleep he’d been pulled from but he narrowed them at the sight of blood on his brother’s blade and the cut on Slade’s cheek. “What’s going on here?”

“You feel asleep beside… our guest,” Tim said, glancing at Slade. His hand curled around Jason’s wrist and squeezed. “Jason and I might have had a few concerns.”

“And those concerns required you to pull your sword on a defenseless man?” Dick asked.

Jason’s lip curled, shoulders tightening defensively. “Like _you’re_ one to talk, Dick.”

The words forming on Dick’s lips never left his tongue. He closed his mouth and took a moment of silence, in which Slade watched both of the younger brothers avert their eyes like they knew Jason had crossed the line. Dick cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, if you could sheathe your sword…”

Jason hesitated only a moment before the sword was put away. He stepped back. “I’m going back to my post since you clearly have this under control.”

Slade watched him leave and then looked to the other warrior. His hand curled around the staff but he met his gaze without an ounce of fear showing there. It earned him a bit of respect in Slade’s view. “Apologies, Slade. It was not our intent to make it appear as if there was an attack.”

“Of course it was,” Slade said.

Tim floundered without words for a moment and then his shoulders dipped. “Yes, it was.”

A bit more respect.

“Tim,” Dick said softly.  It was followed by a sigh.

“I’m not offended,” Slade said. He waited a moment and then amended, “I’m offended that they thought that a threat of violence would have dissuaded me, but I’m not offended that they tried.”

“No?” Dick asked, propping one arm up on the log and watching Slade with no small amount of curiosity in his eyes.

“They are protecting you, or trying to,” Slade said. “It is honorable to protect one’s family.”

Dick’s lips curled up at that. “I would agree.”

Slade pulled himself to his feet, abandoning the log where the two of them had laid down during the wee hours of the night and apparently fallen asleep beside one another. He towered over the smaller human and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. He squeezed and squeezed, waiting until he saw a barely concealed flinch flash in the corners of Tim’s eyes, and added, “On the other hand, if you attack me again I will not resist from showing you the full capabilities of a war trained orc.”

“Noted,” Tim said, with honesty in his tone.

Slade nodded and let go, watching the boy rotate his shoulder before turning his gaze to the half elf still seated on the ground. “I’ll find my guards.”

“If you must,” Dick said.

Slade stared him down and then turned and walked away.

Later in the day, Slade found himself watching some of the warriors. Led by Wayne’s second eldest, Jason, they synchronized drills under the heat of the broiling sun. There was something admirable about their perseverance and diligence.

“Miss it?”

Slade didn’t jump but he had to admit to being surprised. He hadn’t heard Dick’s approach and he prided himself on being aware of his surroundings at all times. He took in the man, the way understated muscles flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest, and then returned his gaze to the warriors. “Miss what?”

“The weight of the blade in your hand, the burn in your muscles from fighting,” Dick said. “The rush of blood in your veins from fighting, it can be addicting.”

“Can it?” Slade asked, keeping his tone even.

“You’re not fooling me,” Dick said.

Slade rolled his eye. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind returning to battle.” He’d spent his entire life training for it and the inactivity he’d experienced since coming to the humans had made him agitated and restless. “But considering your people’s continued fear and loathing of having me here, I sincerely doubt that I’ll be given much opportunity.”

Dick grinned. “Sure?”

Slade’s lips thinned. “What are you so pleased about, _elf_?”

“You think you’re being insulting but I’m paying enough attention to know that you only call me elf when you’re uncertain,” Dick said.

Slade’s lip curled. “What are you so pleased about?”

Dick chuckled. “I may or may not have gotten permission to give you your sword back. Conditionally, of course. It’s for sparring, for protection – but protection from _attackers_. Let your guards handle anyone inside.”

“You’re still expecting an attack?” Slade asked.

Dick shrugged. “I’ve learned not to let my guard down.”

“You don’t seem that cynical,” Slade said.

“I don’t like being that cynical,” Dick said. “So I make an effort not to be, but I’ve been burned far too often to risk standing close to the flame without knowing the risk.”

Yet, Dick still _stood_ next to the flame. That took a level of bravery Slade had problems comprehending. Opening himself up to hurt, just to avoid being cynical.

“When?” Slade asked, belying his true desire to hold the familiar hilt in his hands.

“Now,” Dick said. “I thought we could give sparring a shot.”

Slade scoffed. “You’re out of your league, little elf.”

“You underestimate me,” Dick said.

“Aren’t your opponents usually restrained?” Slade asked. Dick was silent and Slade actually found himself feeling… guilty, for the jab. “That was uncalled for.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Dick said. He closed those blue eyes and Slade didn’t look away until they opened again. “It’s not an uncommon view, even from people on our side. You know how Tim feels, even Jason. I did things I wasn’t proud of trying to protect my family. You of all people, you have every right to be wary. Your people were the victims.”

“I doubt very much that they were innocent victims,” Slade said, dryly.

“Very few victims are,” Dick said. “All of those orcs had families and lives. Right or wrong, they believed wholly in the cause that they were fighting for. Your people view honor very highly and I stole that chance from them by forcing them to betray their people.” He let his hands slide down to his sides. “I realized one day that I didn’t want to be that person anymore, someone that they feared. Bruce has a reputation as a vicious warrior. Enemies fear him. It works for him and if he can live with that, it’s his business. I don’t want to be feared like that.”

“Fear is motivating,” Slade said.

“So are lots of other emotions,” Dick said.

“And which have you chosen?” Slade asked.

Dick gave him a weak half smile. “I haven’t. I gave up that role and I came back to the battlefield here with Bruce and the others. I take care of my brothers, fight when it’s necessary, and help out in the healing tent when I can.”

“And interrogate me,” Slade pointed out.

Dick’s smile faded and he let out a soft sigh. “Once Bruce’s soldier, always Bruce’s soldier.” Slade ground his teeth at that. Dick must have noticed. “You’re upset?”

“I just think that if you’ve decided to change courses then it’s selfish of him to force you back into it,” Slade said.

“I’m touched you care,” Dick said.

“I don’t care,” Slade said. “I just think Wayne needs to be more concerned with being a father and less with being a soldier.”

“He’s not the first to fall victim to that mistake,” Dick pointed out.

“I’m aware,” Slade said. He could hardly judge Wayne when Slade was intimately familiar with committing the same crime. “Now, about that sword?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post on Sunday but I was sort of feeling down. Special shout out to tumblr user [calico94art](https://calico94art.tumblr.com/) for making [this incredible piece of artwork](https://calico94art.tumblr.com/post/173543589143/fanart-for-my-favorite-fanfic-blood-and-iron-by). It was an amazing confidence booster. I'm sorry I don't have your ao3 name or I would tag that too, calico.

The orc looked content with a blade in his hand. He rotated it by the hilt in thick fingers, weighing it and familiarizing himself with its balance once more. He swung it around a few times, experimentally, and then kept it lowered to his side. “Are you ready?”

“More than,” Dick said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve sparred.” He was itching for a fight, had been for some time now.

“Let’s remedy that,” Slade said.

The grass clearing was away from things in an effort to hopefully avoid the attention of the others in the fortress. Not that Dick had any doubts that they would catch someone’s eye eventually, but it might take them longer and that kept Dick alone with Slade.

Dick pulled his blades out of the sheaths tied around his thighs. Slade’s lips quirked, showing the slight points of an orc’s teeth in the motion. “You think those little knives are going to do you any good, little elf?”

Dick twirled the blades between his fingers, a showy action leftover from performing. “You’d be amazed what I can do with these.”

Slade didn’t keep up the banter, lifting the blade and lunging forward. Dick dodged with grace and speed, feeling the slight breeze of the blade flying past his face. He dodged another swing and brought up his foot, shoving the flat of it into his stomach. Compared to orc’s increased body mass, Dick’s strength wasn’t nearly enough to do real damage. It _did_ knock him back a little, enough for Dick to swap from the kick to a quick step forward and a stabbing motion with the knife.

Slade defended with the blade. The metals clanged against each other and Dick had to pull back to avoid damaging his hand in the process.

“You’re adept with them,” Slade said. “I suppose.”

“Admit it,” Dick said. “You’re impressed.”

Slade brought the blade down sharply, extraordinary strength lifting it back up at the last moment before it struck the ground. Dick had to leap back and put extra space between them with a back flip and landed in a crouch.

Slade huffed. “Unnecessary.”

Bruce liked to say the same thing. Dick rolled forward and dragged the blade over Slade’s leg. He rotated it in his hand to rub the flat of it against his leg. This was sparring, after all, no reason to inflict real harm. “Distracting.”

“You didn’t need to flip for that,” Slade commented. Dick’s surprise gave Slade ample opportunity to press the flat of his blade against Dick’s neck. “My point, I believe.”

Dick knocked the blade away with the knife in his left hand. “Again.”

Slade dutifully stepped back. Dick watched the orc’s blade dance through the air before coming to a stop.

Slade was by far the stronger opponent. Each of his strikes made Dick’s bones shake and the air escape his lungs. Swings were ferocious and powered with an intense speed from the unbelievable might in each of Slade’s muscles. Dick’s best defense was his speed and an agility bred in childhood and encouraged over the course of his training under Bruce. Slade was slower, far from lumbering but not as quick on his feet as Dick was by far. Dick built up smaller attacks and watched patiently for openings.

It felt good to hear the beat of his heart intermingled in the clash of blades and feel the sheen of sweat gather on his skin.

“You would be a worthy opponent,” Slade said, during another pause in the fighting. He’d picked up his own perspiration from the fighting. It made his yellowish orange skin look shiny under the sunlight.

“Good thing we’re on the same side then,” Dick said. When Slade’s blade swooped low again, Dick managed to get his foot against the flat and pressed down. It thumped against the soil and Dick released coiled muscles to push off from Slade’s sword and flip over the man’s shoulder. It required a hand on Slade’s shoulder and he made a show of tapping the man’s neck with his blade hand to strike a point.

Dick landed and smirked, turning to face Slade. “I win. Ag-“

Slade _slammed_ into him. The force of the attack took his breath away and then again when he hit the ground hard. He adjusted his hand around the blade only for Slade to trap it in his own hand. “You shouldn’t take your eye off your opponent.”

Dick looked up at him. He was breathing heavy and Slade was too based off the pants Dick could feel against his face. “Duly noted. Lesson learned.”

Slade should have probably gotten off but he didn’t and Dick wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. He cleared his throat. “Is there another lesson here?”

“No,” Slade said.

“Grayson?” Whatever response Dick was preparing for was cut short at Damian’s voice.

Slade climbed off immediately. There would be bruises on Dick’s wrists. He ran a hand through his hair after he climbed to his feet. “Yes, Damian?”

“I saw the two of you…”

“Sparring,” Dick supplied.

Damian’s eyes flickered between the two, face still but eyes giving away much. So much. Too much. Fear, worry, confusion. “I need your assistance with Wilkes.”

Damian’s little friend in the healing tent. Dick let out a breath. “Sure, Damian. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“I can wait,” Damian said.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Damian,” Dick pressed, even if his voice was still gentle.

He saw the little clench of a jaw – Bruce’s mannerism’s on a half sized scale – but the boy didn’t budge.

Dick stared him down but Damian was often set in his ways. “Slade, I’m sorry. I have to cut this short.”

“It’s fine,” Slade said. “Go.”

There was something off in his voice and Dick would have liked to question him on it. He wanted to probe it, poke it, find out just what had turned Slade’s tone so distant. Instead, he followed Damian.

~~~

The little redheaded boy was asleep once more on the bedroll. His situation grew worse each day. Every time Dick came to see him, he hoped that the nightmares would end for the boy. Unfortunately, war had not been kind to the child. On his arm, the black of the venom filled his veins and continued spreading.

“He’ll be okay.” Damian sounded so sure. He had a child’s optimism, whether he liked to admit to being a child or not.

“With time,” Dick said, hoping that he wasn’t lying to his little brother. “We’ll keep helping him.”

“Thank you, Grayson,” Damian said.

“Of course,” Dick said. The two left the tent and stepped back outside. Clouds had rolled over the sky, toning down some of the heat. It was a relief from the oppressive humidity. He put his hands behind his head, stretching and soaking up the unusually fair weather.

“Grayson?” Damian asked.

Dick reluctantly opened his eyes. There was no doubt what Damian was about to bring up. “Yes?”

“Are you sure it’s wise for you to be spending so much time with that orc?” Damian asked.

“If you’ll remember, it wasn’t my idea,” Dick said. “Your father wants me to spend time with him.”

“He wanted you to get information,” Damian said. “It didn’t appear to be getting information when the two of you were sparring.”

“I learned his fighting style,” Dick pointed out.

Damian was quiet but the gears were visibly turning. The boy shook his head. “No, you’re lying.”

Not entirely.

“Does Father know you gave him his weapon?” Damian asked.

“No,” Dick said. “I’ll tell him later today.”

“He won’t be happy,” Damian said.

“He rarely is,” Dick said, stepping forward. If only it was as easy to leave the conversation.

Damian put his hand on Dick’s stomach to keep him from moving. “You are getting attached, Grayson. It’s a bad idea. If Father knew that you were getting attached to the orc he might not be so eager to have you spend time with him.”

“I am not…” Dick trailed off because it wasn’t worth lying. “You’re overreacting, Damian. He’s an ally. He’s been here for some time and he’s shown no signs of betraying us.”

“Victory goes to the patient spider,” Damian said. “I do not wish to see you hurt when his patience ends.”

“Could you _try_ to sound like an actual ten year old?” Dick asked.

“You don’t need a child, Grayson. You need a voice of reason,” Damian said.

Dick snorted and ruffled the boy’s hair until a small hand slapped his away. “You think you’re my voice of reason?”

“I think that no one else can be trusted to look out for your well-being the same way,” Damian said. He pierced Dick with eyes that shouldn’t look _half_ as old as Damian’s did. “I will inform Father, Grayson.”

Dick blew out a breath. “Any way I could convince you not to?”

“No,” Damian said.

Dick ruffled the boy’s hair again, pulling his hand away this time without Damian’s assistance. “Let me talk to him, okay?”

Bright blue eyes narrowed at him, suspicion scrunching up his face. “Fine.”

Dick waited for the boy to leave and arched an eyebrow when he didn’t. “What?”

“You’re supposed to be talking to Father,” Damian said.

“You want me to talk to him now?” Dick asked.

Damian crossed his arms over his chest. “Do not think to put this off, Grayson. You are not often the best person to look after your own well-being.”

“Damian, I’m not bothering Bruce right now. I’m sure he’s busy,” Dick said.

“Father is always busy,” Damian muttered.

Bruce led a busy life. He was a Lord, a general, a warrior – father, too often, fell at the bottom of the list. Dick never faulted him for it; he’d always known the man wasn’t made to raise children. The difference was that after Dick, the others had never understood nearly as well. Jason was openly hostile on the subject and Dick had seen the look of disappointment in Tim’s eyes every time something personal was put on hold for the masses under Bruce’s protection. At least the three of them, they’d had family before. It was almost possible to justify Bruce’s distance with the knowledge that they would never truly be _his_.

Damian… Damian felt the chill of Bruce’s detachment with no memories of being wrapped in a parent’s arms to comfort him. He’d come to them at the height of the war, when Bruce didn’t have time for anything but the momentum of the front lines.

“He’s got a lot on his plate, Damian,” Dick said softly. He ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. I’ll go talk to him now. In exchange, you get the meal you no doubt skipped to be with Colin.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I am capable of feeding myself without reminders.”

Dick grabbed Damian by the shoulders and turned him towards Alfred’s tent. “Go. Eat. Now.”

Damian dug his heels into the ground but his weight wasn’t enough to keep him planted with Dick pushing on his shoulders. He growled and jolted forward to escape the indignity. “Fine, but know that I will interrogate Father on whether or not you upheld your end of the deal.”

“Go,” Dick said again.

Bruce was in the war tent again. It would have been more surprising if he wasn’t, despite knowing that the man had spent the majority of the morning there coordinating attacks. The triangle on the map still remained empty, Tim’s searches into the territory had come up fruitless. “Can we talk?”

Bruce lifted his eyes up, silently taking in Dick’s demeanor and serious tone before nodding. He lowered his eyes back down to the map. It was a tactic, one Dick had learned from him and _hated_ to this day. Even now, Dick stepped closer to feel like he had Bruce’s attention – walking right into the trap set by someone who had no business setting a trap for him.

“It’s about Slade,” Dick said. “And then sort of…not about Slade at all.”

Bruce’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “Go on.”

“I gave him his sword back,” Dick said. There was no point beating around the bush.

Bruce may have been trying to manipulate Dick into working for his attention but there was no doubt he had it now. The man’s head snapped up and his jaw clenched so hard that the fluttering of a nerve became visible. “Excuse me?”

“I gave him his sword back,” Dick repeated. “I sparred with him for a bit, up until Damian interrupted.”

The silence filled the tent. “I don’t think I need to tell you how unwise a decision that was.”

“Bruce, please don’t start with this,” Dick said. “ _You_ wanted me to get close to him so I could read him. You told me to because you know that I could get a read on him. My read is good. He’s been hurt by the war and he wants to get back at the people who hurt him. Those people aren’t us.”

“And the enemy of our enemy is our friend?” Bruce asked.

Dick shrugged. “Something like that.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Bruce asked.

“I’m not,” Dick said.

“What if you are?” Bruce pushed. He stood up and walked over to Dick, put his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “What if you’re wrong and I’ve put you right in his path? You shouldn’t have given him the sword, Dick.”

“I’m not wrong,” Dick said.

Bruce’s hand left Dick’s shoulder. “We still haven’t figured out where he came from.”

Dick glanced at the map again. “I gathered.”

“Tim has to go further and further each time,” Bruce said. “I’m tempted to call off the searches altogether.”

“Do we need to know?” Dick asked. That was a stupid question. In Bruce’s eyes, there was no such thing as bad information. If he were honest with himself, Dick felt the same way. There was a reason he’d chosen the path he’d chosen, even if he’d found it far darker than anticipated once he’d started down it. Maybe that’s why Bruce didn’t dignify the question with an answer. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Alfred brought me a meal this morning,” Bruce said. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I didn’t realize we were still talking about Slade,” Dick said.

“We weren’t. We were talking about you,” Bruce said.

“This isn’t about me,” Dick said.

“Of course it is,” Bruce said.

“I thought this was about the war,” Dick said. “The danger to the people here.”

“Starting with you,” Bruce said. “When he attacks-“

“ _If_ ,” Dick corrected.

“You would be the first to fall,” Bruce finished, as if Dick had never interrupted. “I cannot condone murdering someone in cold blood who has not brought bloodshed here, but I do not wish to have to bury you because we did not act first. You don’t have to make it easier for him.”

This vulnerability from Bruce was unusual. “I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

“You’re molded into stronger stuff,” Bruce said. “You weren’t made for this.”

“No one is made for war,” Dick said. Bruce looked dubious. “There’s nothing determining my propensity for picking up a blade and stabbing it in someone’s chest except for my will to do it.”

“You were a happy child,” Bruce said.

“If you haven’t noticed, Bruce, I grew up a long time ago. I’m still happy-“

“You blame me for what you did,” Bruce interrupted.

“I blame myself for what I did. I blame myself for falling into this… this _obsession_ you live in, believing that your mission was as important as you believed it was,” Dick said.

“The mission _is_ important,” Bruce said.

“To you,” Dick said. “But I confused how important you were to me with how important the mission was. I dedicated myself to something you believed in because I wanted you to be safe and I truly thought that was the only way to make that happen.”

Bruce’s eyes took on a steely glint. “So it’s my fault, like I said.”

“No,” Dick said firmly. “It’s no one’s fault or it’s my fault, but it’s not yours. I’m not going to fall into the same logic that Jason did and blame you for every decision I make. There is no one in charge of my destiny but me. I can’t live and die by your sword, and you wouldn’t want me to.”

Bruce didn’t seem to have words for that.

Dick dragged a hand down his face. “Bruce, I just came to tell you that I gave him his sword. I… I don’t know. I don’t trust him completely. If that’s what you’re worried about then you can stop. But do I trust him not to stab me in the back today? Yes. Tomorrow I’ll decide whether to pick up my blades and shove them in his chest but for today I think I’m safe. That’s how I’m going to play this, one day at a time.”

No reply.

“I guess that’s it,” Dick said. “So I’m going to leave. When Damian comes to ask if I told you, you can tell him yes.”

Bruce hummed in response.

Whatever Dick had been hoping for from the man fell into the void between them and Dick left the tent without another word.

~~~

“This looks productive.” Slade’s voice seemed to drip sarcasm right onto Dick as the orc leaned over Dick and looked down at the elf stretched out in the tall grass and looking up at the sky.

“Sorry, sir. We didn’t realize you were over here when he wanted to walk this way.” One of the guards, but Dick didn’t recognize them by voice.

“It’s no problem,” Dick said. The man dragged his eyes away from a passing cloud and moved to the mostly shadowed face of the orc in question. He blocked out the sun which was welcome now that Dick had been staring up into the bright sky for the past few hours. “Did you know I was over here?”

Slade only smirked at that.

“How?” Dick asked. Slade didn’t answer that either and Dick found himself sighing and sitting up. He waved the guards off. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Now that he was looking at them he could make out Ruth and Joshua.

“I’m sure,” Dick said. Slade held out a hand. Dick arched an eyebrow and didn’t take it. “Who said I was going to get up?”

“I thought you were my guard for the time being,” Slade said, hand never moving.

“It looks like it,” Dick said. “Take a seat, then.”

Slade’s fingers curled in and then his hand dropped to his side. He shifted his weight, rustling the grass as he did, before finally shifting to sit down beside Dick. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so still since I arrived here.”

It was an odd observation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You move constantly,” Slade said. “It’s rather irritating, actually. You shift constantly and touch everything. It’s hard to concentrate when you speak because you’re moving your hands.” He mimed the motion with his own hands before settling them between his knees. “What happened?”

“What makes you think something happened?” Dick asked.

“Something made you still,” Slade said. “I may have lost one eye but I am not entirely blind.”

“Was that a joke from you?” Dick asked. “I’m impressed.”

“Richard,” Slade pressed.

Dick barked a short laugh. “Must be shaking you to the core if you’re using my name instead of ‘elf’.”

“Richard,” Slade repeated.

“Yes, Slade?” Dick asked.

“What happened?” Slade asked.

Dick stretched one leg out in front of him. “What would it take for you to stab that sword into my chest?” Slade’s eye widened slightly, hand going to the hilt. Dick had a similar reaction when surprised, even by something that wouldn’t attack him. “Money? Being welcomed back into your tribe?”

“I have no plans to kill you, little elf,” Slade said. The distance was back. The pet names. Dick didn’t like how that sat in his stomach.

“You have no plans, but that doesn’t mean that nothing could change that,” Dick said.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Slade said. He narrowed his eye. “I thought I’d made it clear that I am here to help.”

“Maybe you’ve just made it clear that you’re a very, very patient man,” Dick said. He pinned Slade with a look. “I’ve been honest with you since day one, Slade. I’ve never pretended to be anything but what I am. I shared my past, I’ve welcomed you into my home, I’ve introduced you to my family. I have nothing to show for it except giving you a blade that you could just as easily kill me with as hold to my people’s defense.”

“You know about my son,” Slade said.

“I only know that he died,” Dick said.

Slade’s teeth clenched. “It’s more than anyone else knows.”

“It’s not enough,” Dick said. Maybe that was cruel, maybe that was demanding. “I want to know more.”

“You ask too much,” Slade said. “You don’t deserve anything from me.”

“I’ve earned answers,” Dick said. “How can I trust you if you won’t give me anything to hold in my hands.”

“Is this you talking or Wayne?” Slade asked. “Is he putting on the pressure to produce results?”

“Not everything comes back to Bruce,” Dick said, rankling at the insinuation.

“Does this?” Slade asked. Dick had proven himself to have a way with words. He could weave an entertaining story, could charm even Slade who had come with no plans to be wooed by his hosts. He was honest but he was capable of an insidious honest manipulation and Slade knew he had fallen into it too much to open himself to it further. “No word games.”

“This isn’t about Bruce,” Dick said. “Prove to _me_.”

Slade said nothing.

Damian’s words came back to haunt him. Bruce’s doubt made Dick’s insides squirm. Dick held the utmost trust in himself and his abilities. He had to in order to be this warrior, this interrogator, this soldier that Bruce wanted him to be. He had to be confident because he had Jason and Tim and Damian counting on him.

Dick had fallen victim to dedicating himself to Bruce’s mission but he’d realized that his mission wasn’t the same as Bruce’s. His mission was his family.

Was Dick letting them down by letting Slade in?

Dick scoffed when the silence only stretched further, closing his eyes and cursing his stupidity. He stood up, brushing away the grass accumulating on his clothes and took one step forward before Slade’s hand curled around Dick’s wrist.

Nothing more than that. Just a tight grip and a thousand thoughts through Dick’s head. How quickly he could pull his blades, how hard he’d have to thrust to push them through the thick skin of an orc. Slade was quick with his sword but Dick had been quicker and this would be a matter of speed…

“Stop,” Slade said. “I’ll tell you.”


End file.
